


The Plague

by talefeathers



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: (minimal but still), Alternate Universe, Blood, Drabble, Gen, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Horror, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 12:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: Valentine had almost forgotten about the plague.It seems foolish to him now, lying in the darkness beneath his bed with his older brother pressed between his back and the wall.What kind of person forgets that they live in a haunted house?





	The Plague

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Things you said with no space between us.](https://sickburnsides.tumblr.com/post/187127461253/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things)

Valentine had almost forgotten about the plague.

It seems foolish to him now, lying in the darkness beneath his bed with his older brother pressed between his back and the wall. What kind of person forgets that they live in a haunted house? But when the haunter in question lies dormant for such long, teasing stretches, it is easy to begin to feel safe.

“Do you think it’s passed?” Valentine whispers.

With the speed of a viper one of Mercutio’s arms moves from where it is crushed into Valentine’s torso to clamp a hand over Valentine’s mouth.

“Shh,” Mercutio breathes, just as footsteps creak the floorboards outside the door.

Just as something outside takes a wet, rattling breath.

Mercutio hisses a shuddering exhale, and Valentine wishes he could close his eyes but they stay wide, locked first on the thin line of light at the bottom of the bedroom door, and then on the shadow that breaks it.

“I won’t let it take you,” Mercutio whispers to him, barely audible, holding onto him so tightly that Valentine wonders if he’ll have bruises when this is over. Valentine wraps his own arms over each of his brother’s and squeezes him right back.

The thin line of light widens into a cone as the plague pushes its way through the door.

There is blood on its bare, rotting feet.

Valentine tries not to watch its shadow, stretched to gangliness along the carpet, as it tilts its head too far to one side. As its rasping, gurgling breaths stop in its throat and it listens. He tries not to see it shuffling inexorably toward them, but he cannot tear his eyes away.

“Death,” it croaks suddenly into the silence, and it takes every ounce of will Valentine has to keep from flinching. He feels Mercutio pressing his face into the back of his head; he doesn't know where his brother's trembling ends and his own begins.

“Death has claimed this house.” The plague’s bloody feet continue to shuffle, stopping only once they are nearly under the mattress. Tears of terror prickle at the corner of Valentine’s eyes. “The plague will putrefy its heirs. Soon, now. Very soon.”

Valentine is going to scream. He can feel it expanding in his chest; his fear is going to burst from him like steam from a ruptured pipe, and then the plague is going to know, is going to find them both huddled here against the wall and drag them out into its waiting maw. He is sure that this is going to happen, that it is only a matter of time before he breaks, when the plague’s diseased feet turn away from him and begin finally, haltingly, to retreat. 

Neither Valentine nor Mercutio says anything once the plague has dragged itself from the room. Neither Valentine nor Mercutio says anything for a very, very long time.

They might have stayed that way, stuck together like magnets, for the rest of the night, had another pair of footsteps – loud, hurried thuds – not made its way into Valentine’s room.

“Mercutio!” gasped the voice of their uncle, Prince Escalus, a wild fear shaking beneath his usual thunder. “Valentine! _Mercutio!”_

Valentine realizes that Mercutio’s hand is still clamped tightly over his mouth, but he isn’t sure he’d be able to answer his uncle even if it weren’t.

“H…” Mercutio rasps. He swallows. “Here.”

Escalus makes a strangled sound and falls to his knees beside the bed, reaching for them. He pulls each boy roughly into his arms and holds them there, heaving great, gasping sighs of relief.

“Thank God,” he chokes, and only then does Valentine feel the fear beginning to drain from his lungs. Only then does he close his eyes. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”

For a moment, it doesn't matter that all they've bought by surviving is more pain in the days to come. It doesn't matter that the plague will honor its promise, and that it will hurt all the more when it does because of the time they have left with each other. For a moment, Valentine just relishes the beating of his uncle's heart against his chest, the fluttering of Mercutio's breath against his ear. They're alive, he thinks.

That's enough for now.


End file.
